A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since depart
Mark the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here

You drink a bitter draught.
I sip the tears your eyes fight to
A cup of lees, of henbane steeped
Your breast is hot,
Your anger black and cold,

Shadows on the wall
Noises down the hall
Life doesn’t frighten me at all
Bad dogs barking loud
Big ghosts in a cloud

There is no warning rattle at the
nor heavy feet to stomp the foyer
Safe in the dark prison, I know t
light slides over
the fingered work of a toothless

A last love,
proper in conclusion,
should snip the wings
forbidding further flight.
But I, now,

I keep on dying again.
Veins collapse, opening like the
Small fists of sleeping
Children.
Memory of old tombs,

I note the obvious differences
in the human family.
Some of us are serious,
some thrive on comedy.
Some declare their lives are lived

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone

One innocent spring
your voice meant to me
less than tires turning
on a distant street.
Your name, perhaps spoken,

We wear the mask that grins and li
It shades our cheeks and hides our
This debt we pay to human guile
With torn and bleeding hearts…
We smile and mouth the myriad subt